


Childhood Forgotten

by Bennie133



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Lots of Angst, M/M, kinda relationship, more of what could never be, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennie133/pseuds/Bennie133
Summary: They had met once, before the labs, before the pool. Before their game was played.





	Childhood Forgotten

The snow fell silently onto the ground, coating everything in a crisp layer of white. Most everyone had stayed in, it being the first snow of the year. It was the weekend and school was out, meaning most were with family and friends.

There were footprints in the snow, that of a little boy. As you followed the prints they lead to an empty playground, except for the creaks from the chains on the swing as the little boy swung himself back and forth, slowly. He was all by himself, looking down at the ground as he went back and forth, deep in thought. He stayed like that, almost as if he were paralyzed. The only movement was his legs pushing himself back and forth. 

The little boy's head snapped up when he saw someone's feet in front of him, and he saw another boy, a few years older than he was. He was just a little taller than the younger boy, but he seemed just as skinny. The older boy stared down at him, “You're alone.” He stated, his eyes observing the younger boy. The little one nodded, not saying anything. He looked back down at the ground shyly, before glancing up to see the older boy still staring at him. He kicked himself back and forward a little, before stopping and looking at him. “What do you want?” He asked quietly.

The older boy looked down at him, “You're sad.”

The smaller of the two looked to his left, not wanting to look at the older boy. He was right. He was sad. “Yes.”

The older boy took his chin in his hand, “Why? Why are you so sad? Why are you out here all alone?” He asked rapidly, looking the little on in the eyes.

The little boy blinked furiously, “Nobody loves me.” He whispered, looking back down. “Mommy and daddy are fighting again and I got scared, so I left. They don't want me.” He said, near tears once more as he had been earlier when he had put on his coat and gloves, leaving his home.

The taller of the two stood there silently before he took the shorter one's hand, “Follow.” He said simply, leading the little boy away with him who was now curious as to where they were going. The tall boy lead them through the playground and into the woods, and he walked up to a tree, looking up. “I found this earlier, and it was abandoned. This tree is where I normally go. I want you to come up with me.” The oldest said, offering his hand to help the little boy up.

The youngest of the two looked at him curiously before taking the help, and the two swiftly made their way up. Once they got up halfway the little boy saw the tree house that had been made, and he wondered if the was actually the boys tree house. Once they made it up and into the tree house, the older boy sat down in the middle of the floor on a soft plush rug. “Sit.”

The little boy scrambled onto the floor in front of the other, and he just observed him. They were both quiet for a few moments before the little boy spoke up, “What's your name? Why did you bring me here?”

“My name is unimportant. I brought you here because you were sad.” The tall boy said. “Your name, what is it?”

The little boy pouted, “I'm not telling until you answer me.” He said smartly.

The taller boy rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, “Just call me Dovev.”

The little boy frowned, “That means secret. It's Hebrew.” He said simply. “Not fair.” He pouted, but he continued on, “My name is James but everyone calls me Jimmy or Jim.” He said proudly.

“How old are you, James?” Dovev asked. He knew the boy was quite young, but he wasn't positive.

The little boy showed off just 6 fingers, “I turned six just a little bit ago! I'm getting big!” He said excitedly, though within seconds he frowned, “Though that's not very close to being an adult I suppose.” He said quietly, causing the other boy to chuckle. “What?” He demanded.

“Adults are idiots. You don't want to be one.” Dovev said, stating it as a fact. Dovev frowned as he saw a slight red mark on Jame's neck. “Remove your coat and shirt.”

The little boy looked startled, “No.”

Dovev frowned, “Then I will.”

Before the little boy could protest, Dovev lunged forward, grabbing the little boy and trying to take off his clothes. The little boy kicked and clawed, trying to stop the older boy. “Don't! You cant see it!” He cried loudly, trying to get the older one to quit. After wrestling on the floor for a few moments, the older boy straddled the younger one's hips and he unzipped the coat and unbuttoned the little one's shirt, revealing many bruises and marks left upon him, obviously from abuse, most likely drunken stupor. The older boy glared at the wounds, and when he saw the little boy was silently crying, he just buttoned the shirt back up, but he remained sitting on the little boy who began to hiccup.

“You- you weren't suppose to see.” The little boy said, his voice filled with panic. The older boy just stared at him and didn't say anything, and the younger boy began to cry more, thinking the other didn't like him anymore. Suddenly, he felt the older boy move and pull him into his arms, hugging him, having James sit on his lap, straddling him, “You are better than you believe.” Dovev told James, holding him close. The little boy clung to him, holding him as he sobbed.

When the little boy had stopped crying, Dovev made him look at him, “Do not believe what they tell you, and do not let them ruin you.” He told the little boy with a firm look. James just nodded his head, “But they're bigger than me.” He said quietly. Dovev shook his head, “No they aren't. Maybe physically, but here, “He said, tapping the boy's forehead and his chest where his heart would be, “They are not.” The little boy giggled, “You're funny.”

Dovev immediately frowned, “I'm being serious, James.” He said. The little boy just glanced at him, “I'm scared. I don't want to go home. Ever.” He said calmly, not moving, just lying limply on Dovev.

The older boy rubbed his back somewhat awkwardly, “I wish you didn't have to. But you will. If you left without them knowing then you shouldn't be gone much longer.” He said, his voice slightly sad. James let out a shaky breath, and he just nodded, “I know.” He pulled away and looked at the older boy, “You won't tell me you're name, which means that I will not be able to find you. I want... I want to see you again.” He said softly, looking up at the taller boy.

Dovev said nothing, looking down at James. “I will not be able to see you again. My home is not in Ireland.” He stated, watching the boy for reactions.

James lip began to tremble, and he was almost in tears again, “But, I just met you! You can't leave me alone again! Nobody talks to me.” 

Dovev shushed the boy, “Sh, James, listen to me. I leave tomorrow for my home, and I will not be able to see you again.” The tall boy frowned, knowing that this would not comfort the little boy, who he would like to comfort more, “May I walk you home?”  
The little boy wiped away a tear, “Yes.” He choked out, “Do we have to go now?” He asked quietly.

Dovev nodded, “Yes. Surely your parents will notice soon, and I must get back before mine start to worry.” He looked at the little boy, and he gave him a sad smile, “You will be alright.” He said, zipping up the little boy coat. “Let's be on our way.”

The duo silently made their way back down the tree, and the trudged through the crisp snow upon the ground. The little boy silently lead the older one through the streets, stopping when they reached the front door of his home. “This is it. My house.”   
James said, looking at Dovev. The older boy looked at him and knocked on the front door, “I must be off, James.” He said. He took the boys chin into his hand, and he gave him a peck on the lips. When James gave him a questioning looking, he said, “My mother told me you did that when you were leaving someone you cared about. Goodbye, James.”

James was about to protest when his door opened, and he turned to look at his father who was standing in the door way. He looked back over to where Dovev had been, but he was now gone. He frowned and whispered, “Bye.”  
Dovev watched from the shadows the the father had dragged James back inside, yelling at him for just leaving the house. He sighed, and began his walk back to where his family had been staying. He no longer wanted to leave Ireland, he wanted to know the boy who had captured his attention on those lonely swings. He knew he most likely would never see the boy again, though, and that it was best he had not given his real name.

-Page break-

Sherlock was looking into his scope, trying to figure things out for the case when Molly had come in, along with a man. Sherlock saw his clothes before his face, detecting the underwear and the how the man wore his clothes. Gay, he deduced. He looked up and was immediately hit with shock, though he didn't sat it. That was him, James. He didn't say anything, and he watched. The man clearly did not recognize him.

As they went about introductions and such Sherlock was a bit more snappish and an arse than he normally would be, but not because he was angry. No, he didn't want anyone to see him being weak....

-Page break-

Sherlock looked around the pool frantically, waiting for the real Moriarty to step out. There had been panic at first, scared that John had actually been him. As soon as he heard James voice call out, he immediately felt sick to his stomach. He saw a man who was a genius step out, someone who was just as talented as he was, and he was saddened. While yes, he was enjoying this game... The fact that it was James made it hurt. And he knew... He knew James didn't remember him.

-Page break-

Jim looked at Sherlock, “Bless you, Sherlock, bless you.” He leaned forward, and he smirked, “Too bad that's never going to happen.” He smirked and kissed Sherlock on the lips, “Goodbye, Dovev.” He said, putting the gun to his mouth, pulling the trigger.  
Instantly Sherlock wanted to stop this, to have Jim alive, but he had to jump... He couldn't let John die, too...


End file.
